Sing For Me
by Starry Knights
Summary: A fantasy, modern-day twist on the original Phantom of the Opera story. Tokio Hotel/POTO crossover. No hate, please.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:Okay, my people, this is a little old, but oh well. I edited it a little to flow better. Anyways, listen up! I followed the movie as closely as I possibly could as far as story-line goes (it's a little out of order and there's some stuff that wasn't there, but oh well). But, it contains a new cast, a new time period and a new setting. Now, if you aren't open minded and are only gonna hate the story cos it's different from the original, I suggest you leave and don't be posting hate comments about it.**

**Google Tokio Hotel, if you don't know who they are.**

**For those of you sexy people who do like to shake it up, here is _Sing For Me_. ;D**

* * *

><p><em>Chapter One<em>

Do you know when you have those days when it seems like EVERYONE is out to get you in some way, shape, or form?

If you do, welcome to my world.

If you don't, then consider yourself one of the more blessed people in the universe.

I mean, I know everyone's rehearsing for tonight's big show, but seriously, why do people feel the need to take it all out on me?

"Kristina!" someone said, though it wasn't a summoning voice.

Ugh.

Gustav Schafer, one of my best friends and sanity of this place, somehow magically materialized at my side.

"Bad day?" he grinned, running a comb through his shaggy blond hair. I just stared my hair, not attempting to do anything to it. My hair was black and razor cut into a million different layers and lengths and through it all, still managed to be long enough to fall to my elbows. I sighed, ran a comb through it once, and shoved the gaudy headband, which went with our ballet costumes, in it.

Stuff you'll need to know about my life:

My [full] name is Kristina Anastasia Soloviova. I was taken in here, at this fancy-shmancy Berlin opera house a few years ago when my parents passed away. I used to live in Russia – St. Petersburg, to be exact. I speak very fluent Russian and a good amount of English. My German wasn't great when I first moved, but it's gotten considerably better as time has gone on.

"You have no idea," I muttered back to Gustav, my head falling into my hands.

"You're coming with me tonight."

I looked up. "Where?"

He barked a laugh. "Where? Around here! This place! I keep hearing it's haunted and I want in on the action! Besides, there's a party for all the ballet dancers that Tom is holding in one of those "forbidden" rooms."

Tom Kaulitz was another good friend of mine. He was one of the most talented male dancers at this opera house.

"I don't know…" I trailed, looking down and my hands.

"Aw, come awn, Kristina! It's 2011 and you're sixteen! Live a little!" He complained. "You've been acting like nothing but a zombie for the past few weeks and it's starting to scare me. Seriously, what's going on? Or are you purposely trying to look like queen of the dead?"

"You seriously want to know?"

"YES!"

"I'm suffering from insomnia."

He just stared blankly at me. "You can't sleep?"

"No."

"Why not?"

I looked at him and rolled my eyes. "Gee, well, if I knew that…."

"Any strange dreams, maybe?"

That did strike a chord with what I was going through. "Well…kind of."

"Tell me more…" he encouraged, a smile breaking on his face.

"There's this guy and I can't really see his face, but he's singing. To me, I guess. To me, about me, I'm not really sure, but all I know is that he's singing and he has the more angelic voice of the world and then…I just wake up. They're the best dreams I've had in a long time, but that's not what's keeping me awake – I can't fall asleep and that's the problem I'm having. Not the dreams." I explained in a nutshell.

"Well then…I don't know," he gave me a sympathetic smile, placing a hand on my shoulder which I quickly shrugged off after feeling that it was freezing cold.

"Fraulein Soloviova!" Frau Schafer, Gustav's mom, called from somewhere, making sure everyone was here for rehearsal.

"If someone calls me "fraulein" one more time, I'm going to go insane and kill someone," I growled under my breath while reporting to the ballet room.

"I'm here!" I waved in the door. She checked my name off a list.

"I guess she already knows you're here," I told Gustav after walking back to him.

"No kidding."

* * *

><p>I went through the ballet routine with the other dancers my age and younger and older. I tried my hardest to make it look like I was concentrating on my steps, though my brain refused to go anywhere but the fact that I didn't really feel comfortable dancing in these skimpy slave outfits and my strange dreams. I hadn't realized that talking about them would make you think about them so much…. I tried, though, to mentally put a face with the voice and here's what I came up with:<p>

_-tall_

_-beautiful_

_-Angel-like_

_-statuesque_

_-blond hair_

_-blue eyes_

_-fair skinned_

_-perfect_

And how was I to know if it was wrong? I mean, it's just a dream – I can make up anyone I want to go with the voice. This face was attractive and, in my mind, it went very well with the attractive voice.

"You! Kristina Soloviova! Concentrate, girl!" Frau Schafer's voice cruelly brought me out of my reverie, when I had absentmindedly stepped out of place.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, some of you may have met Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin…." A voice spoke in the distance. How I could hear it over the loud music of the orchestra, I don't know. "Monsieur Reyer, if you please…"

"Herr Baum! We are rehearsing!" the conductor snapped at the Opera House owner.

"Yes, and my apologies, monsieur, but this will only take a moment," Herr Lefevre promised. Several eye rolls and angry sighs went over the small crowd of dancers around me.

"He just has to interrupt us every time, doesn't he?" one of my…not "friend" so much but "acquaintance", Megan, snarled. She's a few years younger than me at fourteen, since I'm seventeen now. Though fourteen or not, she can definitely put someone in their place.

"Ladies and gentlemen – Frau Schafer, thank you – may I have you attention, please?" Herr Baum started his long speech. "As you know, for some weeks, there have been rumors of my immanent retirement. I can tell you now that those are all true and it's my pleasure to introduce to you the two gentlemen who now own Der Oper Haus: Monsieur Richard Firmin and Monsieur Gilles Andre."

People around me started applauding them for something. I did, too, out of politeness. Then the beautiful and wonderful and worshipped Signora Carlotta felt the need to make her presence known so these two new guys could worship her as well. That's another thing – why do two French people own a German opera house? Do I seriously care either way? No. Just one of those things that cross my mind every now and again

Signora Carlotta makes me sick. Her voice gives me a headache, yet she thinks she's God's gift to the world with the voice of a freaking angel.

"Gentlemen, Signora Carlotta Giudicelli, our leading soprano for five seasons now," Herr Baum introduced her. Signora Carlotta bowed and acted all happy and I rolled my eyes, turning my thoughts back to my own thoughts since I knew there was no way I could ever be needed in this conversation.

_Think of me,_

_Think of me fondly_

_When we've said goodbye_

_Remember me_

_Once in a while_

_Please promise me you'll try_

Signora Carlotta went on showing off her voice by singing the aria that I had practiced over and over again to myself, thinking of my friends back home…mainly only one.

_When you find _

_That once again you long_

_To take your heart back-_

As the diva was singing, out of nowhere, a backdrop came crashing down and fell right on top of her. Chorus members and dancers screamed and Meg grabbed my arm to pull me away from the danger zone of more falling objects.

"He's here – the phantom of the opera!" Meg gasped.

"The phantom of what…?" I asked, confused and scared at the same time.

"The ghost, newbie!" an older dancer scoffed mockingly to me. "The Opera ghost!"

"Opera ghost," I repeated skeptically. Why hadn't I heard of an 'Opera Ghost' sooner? Hello, I have lived here for how long and _now_ is when they choose to tell me that this place is haunted?

"My dancers! Please!" Frau Schaefer scolded us.

"Signora, these things do happen," Monsieur Andre chuckled. Bad move, buddy. Bad, bad move….

"Si! These things to do happen! For the past three years these things do happen and did you stop them from happening? No!" Signora Carlotta snapped at Herr Baum then turned her attention to the new owners. "And you two; you are as bad as him! These things do happen; ugh! Until you stop of these happening, this thing does not happen! _Ubaldo! Adiamo!_"

And she finally left. I looked up and mouthed "thank you".

"Gentlemen, good luck. If you should need me, I shall be in Australia," Herr Lefevre left as well and now we were left in the hands of these two idiots.

"Sign-signora Giudi-Giudicelli…she-she will be c-coming back right?" Monsieur Andre asked Monsieur Reyer, who only shrugged.

I nudged Meg. "Good riddance to that-"

"Kristina Soloviova could sing it, sir," Frau Schafer spoke loudly; getting everyone's attention. Blood drained out of my already pale face. I could what…?

"A chorus girl? Don't be silly," Monsieur Firmin blew her off and I saw a small glimmer of hope of getting out of this.

Frau Schafer grabbed my arm and dragged me to the front center of the stage, in front of the two men. "Let her sing for you, messieurs. She has been well taught."

Monsieur Andre sighed. "Very well, then."

What? No. NO!

Monsieur Reyer tapped his music stand with his conductor's stick. "From the beginning of the aria, then would you please mam'zelle?"

I gulped, trying to swallow the huge lump in my throat. A swarm of butterflies filled my stomach. The piano started playing and I heard my part to fill in with the words.

_Think of me_

_Think of me fondly_

_When we've said goodbye_

_Remember me_

_Once in a while_

_Please promise me you'll try_

Silence behind me.

_When you find _

_That once again you long_

_To take your heart back and be free_

_If you ever find a moment, _

_Spare a thought for me_

* * *

><p>It was amazing how different I looked, now out of my ballet costume and now in a dress that was floor length and pure white with stars and flowers covering the dress and my hair.<p>

_Think of all the things we've shared and seen_

_Don't think about the things which might have been_

_Think of me_

_Think of me waking _

_Silent and resign_

_Imagine me_

_Trying to hard to put you from my mind_

_Recall those days_

Out of the corner of my eye, looking out across the huge crowd, I spotted a face I knew and hadn't seen in ages. I had to fight against myself to keep consciousness. Long, bronze-colored hair, lightly sun browned skin, hazel eyes…Geo? Georg Listing? Could it be…? I couldn't keep staring, since that would look beyond creepy if it was not Geo (my nickname I gave him), so I tried to focus on the lyrics of the aria.

_Look back on all those times_

_Think of the things we'll never do_

_There will never be a day when I won't think _

_Of you!_

I was singing for Geo now. Weather it was really him or just some sick joke my imagination was playing on me, wherever he may be now, I was singing for him.

_We never said our love was evergreen_

_Or as unchanging as the sea_

_But please promise me that sometimes _

_You will think of me!_

A loud applause went over the crowd. Most of the people stood. I dared to look over at the place where the Geo look-a-like had been and…no. There was no mistake; no look-a-like. Only a shocked look took over his angelic face and he was standing what looked to be on his toes and clapping like crazy.

"Brava!"

"Bravissima!"

"Stupenda!"

Random people started calling out things and a ton of roses and other flowers were thrown up on stage at my feet.

"Bella!" I heard some Italian guy call. "Bella!"

I smiled, recalling what my art teacher had told my class about Italian guys who screamed 'Bella' at a girl, though I couldn't drag my eyes away from a certain emerald pair that I was just about certain I'd never see again as long I lived. I picked up a few flowers that caught my eye and blew a kiss to the audience, smiling brightly only at my childhood sweetheart. I then proceeded to walk off the stage, and into the welcoming arms of my theatre comrades.

"Kristina! Brava!"

"Brava, Bella!"

"Brava! Brava! Brava!"

Frau Schafer pulled me away from this madness. "You did very well, my dear. We are all very pleased with you; especially our new patron whom, since you were our starring soprano, will meet later tonight."

For the first time since coming to the opera house, I actually saw approval in Frau Schafer's eyes for something I did. It was a good feeling and all, but I had bigger things on my mind.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

* * *

><p>As was protocol for all of these post-gala after parties, all cast members were to keep their costumes on. This was not a questioned tradition that has been going on for decades – it was just an obeyed one. No one had an answer so no one dared question.<p>

Tom and Gustav tackled me in a group hug as soon as Frau Schafer let me go.

"Why didn't you tell us you could sing like that?" Tom yelled.

"Seriously, Kristina, you're better than Carlotta!" Gustav added.

"And prettier!" a random dancer added, though his girlfriend smacked him and began pushing him in another direction.

"I honestly didn't know I could sing like that," I fessed.

Gustav and Tom just laughed.

"Well, my mom did," Gustav pointed out.

"Yeah, Krissy, we're not as stupid as you think we are," Tom put his arm around my shoulder and began walking more toward the back area behind the stage where everyone was.

I weaved my way through the huge and seemingly endless crowd, once again looking for the face that took my breath away. I wanted to talk with him again. I wanted to laugh with him again.

People stopped me every two minutes, not caring about the fact that I was obviously looking for someone in particular, to say how wonderful I was tonight. I thanked them quickly and continued on. The first few times of that were flattering, now it was just plain annoying.

I felt utterly lost in this crowd of faces, though I knew the opera house by heart – almost. Yet the room went silent for the moment when I heard a voice I had severely missed.

"KrissKross!" the voice was the only one with a Russian accent identical to my own. This voice was the only one who had known my nickname.

The owner of my favorite pair of green eyes was running up to me, arms open wide. I did the same, expecting the familiar after-shave smell of his body wash and the oddly citrus scent of his bronze hair spilling over my face. I hadn't realized how much I had missed him until this moment.

"Ah, Miss Soloviova, there you are!" one of the managers' voices stopped me in my tracks. Geo stopped, too, looking as Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin walked up to the two of us. "And you, too, Mr. Listing."

"What a splendid gala, tonight, Miss Soloviova! We made quite a discovery, don't you think?" Monsieur Firmin nudged Geo.

"Quite the discovery," he agreed, trying to act like he didn't know me, but there was a smirk in his eyes that said our reunion would be held later.

"Miss Soloviova, this is our new patron, Georg Listing," Monsieur Andre introduced. "Herr Listing, this is Miss Christina Soloviova. She came to us as a Russian orphan, just dancing in the ballet, and now one of our best leading ladies. Tonight was her first big role."

"You did excellent, Miss Kristina Soloviova," Geo kissed the back of my hand. "I look forward to knowing you better."

The managers then got distracted by another important guest, and Geo and I ran off to a secluded corner, behind the action.

I don't think I've ever hugged someone so tight.

"You're an orphan?" Geo asked, his eyes wide. "That's why you didn't call me?"

"Yeah, my phone got destroyed in the plane crash and the phones here are off limits unless it's an emergency," I explained, using our native Russian. "I wanted to call you and explain everything, but I just…couldn't. I'm surprised you still even remember me. That was how long ago – five years, maybe? Six? Seven?"

"I could never forget you, Krissy. I'm surprised you remember me."

"I have no family now, so it's hard to think of anyone else."

He hugged me again. "You sang like an angel, Kristina."

I placed my hand on the side of his face. "I was singing for you."

-Three hours later-

"I have only one last question for you, my dear girl," the Aristocratic woman, Lady Valerius, concluded after interviewing me for her article in the local newspaper.

"Yes?" I asked. I was tired and really wanted this to hurry up so I could turn in for the night.

"Have you been visited?"

I gave her a blank stare. "Uh, actually yes."

"You have?" her face lit up. "Oh, what was it like?"

"Amazing. We were friends throughout our childhood and–"

"I wasn't talking about a childhood friend you just recently met up with again."

I gave her another blank stare. "Then what do you mean by "visited"?"

"Silly girl," she laughed. "Have you been visited by the Angel?"

Still no expression from me. "Angel of what?"

"The Angel of Music, silly girl! No one can just start singing like that just out of nowhere!"

"No."

Her glee faded, her eyes darkened.

"Are you sure you haven't been visited? Nothing? No strange singing you can't put a face to? No strange dreams? No nothing?"

Again with the dreams. "Well…."

Her happiness returned, again with all enthusiasm. "Go on, child, I'm listening."

"For the past few weeks I have been having these really bizarre dreams," I confessed, seeing no need to keep it a secret. "There's this guy and I can't see his face at all, but all I know is that he's singing to me. What he sings are songs I've never heard before, yet they seem so familiar and I remember feeling whole once I have my face buried in someone's chest who smells like roses and…"

"And?"

"The last thing I remember before waking up is seeing a single black rose with a red ribbon tied around it."

There was only silence as Lady Valerius pondered this. She then suddenly sprang from her seat, overcome with joy. "You've been visited by the Angel of Music! Child, do you know what this means?"

"Delilah, we have to go now," her husband called from the doorway. "The girl's had a long day and needs her rest. You sang beautifully tonight, Miss Soloviova."

"Thank you," I smiled before leaving to get ready for bed.

-Later that night-

My clock read 11:55 as I reached my dorm room. I didn't want to turn the overhead light on, so I just lit a few candles instead. The candles gave off a dim light, making me more and more tired along with their floral scent of lilacs and honeysuckle. I quickly changed into my pajamas after that: I had fluffy pajama pants that were black with neon tiger/zebra stripes and a white tank top.

I looked in the full-length mirror in my room and a shiver raced down my spine. The strangest feeling entered my veins as I faintly heard a beautiful voice I knew almost too well now.

* * *

><p><em>I'm trying to tell you<em>

_I'm trying to know you_

_I'm dying to show you_

_Fighting to get you_

* * *

><p>This made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up. What Lady Valerius had told me just made me think about it that much more.<p>

"Angel?" I whispered.

* * *

><p><em>Look at your face in the mirror<em>

_I am there inside_

* * *

><p>I did as the voice said and my heart sped as I saw a figure in my mirror.<p>

* * *

><p><em>I am you Angel of Music<em>

_Come to me, Angel of Music_


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

* * *

><p>The candles I lighted all blew out at the same time as I stared dumbfounded at the full-length mirror.<p>

* * *

><p><em>I am your Angel of music<em>

_Come to me, Angel of music_

* * *

><p>"Who is that in there?" I heard Geo's voice outside my door, but at the same time I didn't care. He could wait. I was in the presence of an angel – the Angel of Music.<p>

* * *

><p><em>I am your Angel of Music<em>

_Come to me, Angel of Music_

* * *

><p>I gently placed my hand in the hand of the Angel's and started leading me down some strange passageway. It was brightly lit by candelabras held by arms that looked to be made of pure gold. They also looked like they were moving. The Angel looked back at me, so I could see his face clearly.<p>

He was tall – that was the first thing I noticed about him. Around maybe six-foot-one or six-foot-two. He had long, dark black hair that was tied back into a low pony tail. His face –the side I could see – was beyond perfect – pale, almost translucent-looking skin seemed to glimmer in the golden candlelight. And his skin was perfect – if he'd had to deal with acne at all, like I did, his skin didn't show it. But I'm talking about an Angel, here. Of course he didn't have acne at all – he was made to be perfect. The Angel had dark chocolate-colored eyes – that looked to be staring straight into my soul – outlined in exotic, expensive-looking black makeup and black-painted nails on his bony fingers.

But the strangest thing about him was that he wore a mask, covering almost the entire left side of his face. It only made me wonder more about who he was and why – out of all the other talented singers and performers in this opera house – did he choose me?

* * *

><p><em>In sleep he sang to me<em>

_In dreams he came_

_That voice which calls to me_

_And speaks my name_

* * *

><p>I wasn't sure where this hallway led, but I had a feeling I was about to find out. All the years I've lived and worked here at this opera house, I'd never suspected something like this that was right in front of my face the whole time.<p>

* * *

><p><em>And do I dream again?<em>

_For now I find_

_The phantom of the opera is there_

_Inside my mind_

* * *

><p>That was another thing I had to think about – how often did he watch me through my mirror? All those years where I have changed clothes in front of it, how many times had he seen that?<p>

I shivered from the thought of being unknowingly watched.

* * *

><p><em>Sing once again with me<em>

_Our strange duet_

_My power over you_

_Grows stronger yet_

* * *

><p>Though, through all of this strangeness, I didn't feel scared. I knew I probably should have felt scared – I mean, seriously, I really didn't know him and did not really want to be raped, abducted, murdered, et cetera, but oddly enough, I felt safe. His voice was the exact voice that sang me to sleep those nights so I wasn't even nervous around him – I was calm; his voice was calming.<p>

By now, I was also wondering how far from civilization we were and how far beneath the surface we were. I looked back; only too see the staircase we'd just come down.

* * *

><p><em>And though you turn from me<em>

_To glance behind_

My head shot back around.

_The phantom of the opera is there_

_Inside your mind_

* * *

><p>There was a horse at the bottom of the staircase; a beautiful black stallion that I'm not sure how he got down here unnoticed and how he kept it fed and cared for, but I didn't ask, either. I couldn't find my voice to ask anything else.<p>

The Angel was gentle while helping me onto the stallion; I felt almost like a porcelain doll that he didn't want to break – no one had ever been so gentle with me. I'm not sure how far we traveled before we reached some sort of underground lake – I'd seen these before – on TV and in movies and whatnot – but never in person. There was a wrought iron gondola waiting there for us.

I swung my leg over the horse's neck and slid down into the arms of the Angel. He was warm – like, burning up warm. Gently, he carried me (think wedding style) and set me gently into the gondola before entering and taking a long, wrought iron staff to guide the boat along.

* * *

><p><em>Those who have seen your face<em>

_Draw back in fear_

_I am the mask you wear_

* * *

><p><em>It's me they hear<em>

* * *

><p>I wasn't sure where the words were coming from, but I kept singing anyway with this…Angel of Music.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Yourmy spirit and my/your voice in one combined_

_The phantom of the opera is there_

_Inside your/my mind_

_He's there, the phantom of the opera_

* * *

><p>"Sing for me?" the Angel asked.<p>

And so I did. What I sang wasn't anything special – just scales; most of which were hitting notes I had only dreamed about, but I was glad, in that moment, that I hit them perfectly. I had this strange, yet strong feeling that I wanted to impress him.

Out of freaking nowhere, there was this gate that appeared in front of us (wrought iron seemed to be a popular theme) and I swear, there were _lit_ candelabras coming out of the lake we were in.

I hadn't remembered falling asleep, but I was half-sure that I was dreaming.

I mean, this couldn't be real, could it? I had to be dreaming…right?


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

* * *

><p>I heard soft piano playing in the distance, and that brought me out of my unconsciousness. It was dark behind my eyelids and I wasn't quite awake enough to get them open.<p>

Flashes of the night before (I mean, I guess it was the night before…) flashed before my closed eyes. Candles, mist, a lake, wrought iron (and lots of it), a boat and…a man. An angel. The Angel. My Angel.

* * *

><p><em>Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation<em>

_Darkness furls and wakes imagination_

_Silently the senses abandon their defenses_

* * *

><p>The Angel's voice was vividly replayed in my head and I felt at ease.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor <em>

_Grasp it; sense it - tremulous and tender _

_Turn your face away_

_From the garish light of day_

_Turn your thoughts away_

_From cold, unfeeling light _

_And listen to the music of the night_

* * *

><p>I then felt a soft, velvety fabric on me – going from my shoulders down to my feet. So I was in bed.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Close your eyes and surrender to your<em>

_Darkest dreams_

_Purge your thoughts of the life_

_You knew before_

_Close your eyes_

_Let your spirit start to soar_

_And you'll live_

_As you've never lived before_

_Softly, deftly_

_Music shall surround you_

_Feel it, hear it_

_Closing in around you_

_Open up your mind,_

_Let your fantasies unwind,_

_In this darkness which_

_You know you cannot fight_

_The darkness of the music of the night_

* * *

><p>The music of the night? Awesome. I'd be willing to sing it. Anything for this Angel.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Let your mind start a journey <em>

_Through a strange new world!_

_Leave all thoughts_

_Of the world you knew before!_

_Let your soul take you where you_

_Long to be_

_Only then can you belong to me_

_Floating, falling, sweet intoxication_

_Touch me, trust me savor each sensation_

_Let the dream begin_

_Let your darker side give in_

_To the power of the music that I write _

_The power of the music of the night_

_You alone can make my song take flight_

_Help me make the music of the night_

* * *

><p>I can't remember the last time I'd heard a voice that beautiful, that sweet, that intoxicating, that seductive….<p>

My eyes immediately shot open. I was, in fact, in a bed, but it was not my own. It was a four post bed with red wine-colored silk drapes, blocking out any and all light. The sheets and comforter were made out of the same color silk as well. I was wondering if it was real silk or just some really good brand of nylon….

Then my thoughts traveled to a more important place.

A wave of relief was blown over me when I saw that I was fully dressed in whatever I happened to be wearing last night.

And with that, I breathed a sigh of relief.

That's when the piano became more prominent, now that I was fully awake. I gently pulled aside one of the silk drapes.

_Ah! Bright light!_ My head – well, eyes – shrieked as I felt backwards onto the bed.

The piano playing stopped for a moment, and then started up again.

_He'd heard me_, I thought. Then I looked at the bed and sheets I was laying on. _Shut up!_ I thought at them.

Giving commands to inanimate objects and expecting them to obey me: just one of my many, many quirks.

I decided to try and get my eyes to adjust the old fashioned way – gradually. It took longer, but eventually my eyes did adjust when I resorted to pulling the curtain away gradually. I looked down at my neon striped socks as I stepped onto the hard, slate floor. The huge lake we'd been on last night was to my left and a wall was to my right. I froze in place when I saw the Angel – he was vigorously writing something on a piece of paper while pressing random notes on his grand piano.

I wondered, like many other things, how he got it down here – unnoticed.

Shyly, I began to walk up behind him, all the while trying my hardest not to trip on any loose rocks in this underground masterpiece. I wasn't sure if he was ignoring me, or just didn't hear me walk up. The only thing I was sure about was that I scared him half to death when I looked over his shoulder at what he was working on and began singing what was written down:

* * *

><p><em>Whoa, whoa<em>

_They're telling me it's beautiful_

_I believe them, but will I ever know_

_The world behind my wall_

* * *

><p>"That's beautiful," I told him, smiling, pleased that I'd sung it right.<p>

"Thank you," he smiled back at me. I sat next to him at the piano, staring down at the keys.

"Do you play?" he asked. I shook my head.

"I thought about it. I was kind of interested, but then I came here."

Awkward silence. Deadly awkward silence.

"So..." I began. "Do you...have a name?"

"Bill."

Bill.

Simple. Easy. Easy to remember.

I liked it.

"I'm Kristina...but since that's a mouthful, I shortened it to Krissy," I paused. "Do you...have a last name?"

"Kaulitz."

Kaulitz? "Kaulitz?" I said, shocked. Bill looked at me with those huge, innocent pools of molten dark chocolate he called his eyes.

"Yes..."

I took one side of his face in my hand and made him look more in my direction so I could study his face.

"Wow..." I breathed.

"What?"

"I have a friend, another dancer; whose last name is Kaulitz...I swear you guys could be twins."

"Tom?"

I froze. "Um...yeah. Uh, how-"

"Because we are twins."


	5. Chapter 5

I followed Meg that night down to the hang-out of all the female dancers – I've been there a time or two, but most of my friends are guys.

"Christina, cheer up. It'll be fun! They like you just fine," Meg coaxed me along. It was way past midnight and I was hoping to see Bill again…hopefully he won't take it that I'm avoiding him. In all truth, I liked him. He was shy, and sweet and his voice…oh gosh, his voice….

Words can't describe it. So I give up.

Meg knocked on the door and there was a two-minute space before someone answered. It was Maxine – an older dancer than us, and somewhat on the snobby side.

"Hey Meg," she greeted us. "I see you've brought you emo tomboy friend with you."

"Shut up, Maxine. She's not emo."

"Well," she kept going, "does she think we're not good enough for her?"

"Uh…I'm right here," I said, waving my hand.

"Maxine, that's enough," Raven, a back-up singer/dancer, came to my rescue. "Christina, I wanted to tell you how great you were that night at the gala."

"Thanks," I smiled.

"Come in, guys. Joseph's supposed to be here shortly," she beckoned us.

Oh no. Joseph Bouquet – the stage hand. He's always hanging around young girls my age and he's well into his forties…

I don't trust him.

I walked in and stood near Meg, thought I kept silent. No one was staring at me. No one was talking about me – which I could hear of course. Everyone was minding their own business and I was considering every and all excuses I could come up with to get out of here before-

"Good evening, ladies."

&%$#!

"Would you girlies like to hear a story?" his voice rasped. Joseph Bouquet had long, wiry, tangles, matted, oily dark blond hair, tan skin; he looks like he's never seen a razor in his life. His words slurred together – drunk.

"Rawr!" he lunged at a group of girls on the floor who screamed. After they calmed down, he lunged at another.

I just rolled my eyes.

"What story is that?" Maxine asked.

"One about…the Opera Ghost," Joseph emphasized his last two words.

Lots of girls nodded; others said yes.

I did nothing.

"It is said," Joseph started. "That he lived beneath this very opera house."

_Beneath this very opera house…_

BILL?

_Like yellow parchment is his skin_

_A great black hole serves as the nose that never grew_

I was resisting my urge to flip him off, punch him in the face, and kick him right where the sun doesn't shine. Bill does_ not_ look like that.

He pointed at us.

_You must be always on your guard_

I started to leave.

_Or he will catch you with his magical lasso_

Joseph pulled out a noose and showed it to everyone before throwing it around my neck just as I walked past and pulled me in. It smelled like he'd ever showered in his life, either. He started to pretend to bite my neck and I struggled to get free. Just before I elbowed him, Frau Schafer came to my rescue, pulling me away from him and taking the noose from my neck.

_Those who speak of what they know_

_Find to late that prudent silence is wise_

_Joseph Bouquet, hold your tongue._

And she slapped him. I felt disappointed – I wanted to do that.

_Keep you hand at the level of your eyes!_

And on that note, I left. I had to find Tom.

…

I found Tom in the ballet room the next morning. He was struggling with trying to pull his blond dreadlocks into a pony tail. It was a Saturday, so there were no classes or practices or recitals. As long is it was within limits, the whole opera house was free. We could also go out and do stuff – shopping, basketball or something in the park, go to restaurants, et cetera.

"Hey, Tom," I said, coming up from behind him. "Do you need help?"

"Please!" he said, exasperated. "It's times like these when I wonder why I went with dreadlocks."

"Not as low maintenance as they seem, huh?"

"No."

"What does Bill think of them?"

"Bill?"

"The brother you never told me you had. Your twin."

Silence.

"You don't have to play dumb with me, Tom. I know. I met him last night," I explained, finishing his dreadlocks.

-3rd person POV-

Georg heard Christina's voice and stopped dead in his tracks.

"The brother you never told me you had. Your twin."

There was a silent pause.

"You don't have to play dumb with me, Tom. I met him last night," her voice said. Georg's mind flashed to last night when he came for her – the voice. Christina was with someone else.

How dare he move in on her! Christina was Georg's. She had _always_ been Georg's! And now this newcomer, this "Angel of Music", thinks he can swoop in and whisk her away to Wonderland? No! Christina may have fallen for another, but Georg was determined to win her back…no matter what that would entail.

-Christina's POV-

Tom looked around nervously, and then dragged me by my wrist to his dorm.

"Woo!" other guy dancers called when they saw us.

Tom just flipped them off.

He locked the door once we were inside and sat down next to me on his bed.

"What exactly did he tell you?" Tom asked in a serious tone. In his eyes, there was no trace of the easy-going humor or sarcasm. I almost didn't recognize him.

"He started off by saying he needed my help. He wanted me to sing what he was working on – something called the Music of the Night."

"Then?"

"I asked if you two were twins…and he said that you were."

"Why did you ask if we were twins?"

"Oh gosh, Tom!" I said. "You have to be blind to not see the resemblance!"

"Did he tell you what happened?"


	6. Chapter 6

"What happened to what?" I asked, confused.

"Why he wears a…and why he lives…" Tom trailed off. I could see he was trying his best to explain this, but I was completely lost.

"No. He didn't explain that," I said flatly. "I didn't ask, either. What did happen?"

Tom sighed. "I can't tell you – it's not my story to share. I know only because I'm his brother. No one else knows – if he wants to tell you, then he can, but I can't. I'm sorry, Chrissy."

"No, that's fine…I just…I still don't understand," I tripped over my words. "I just can't imagine something so traumatizing happening that makes you want to hide away from the world forever.

"He's had a hard life – I'll just put it that way. He's insecure about it. He'll talk your ear off with any other topic except this."

Bill really didn't talk that much – I accepted to sing The Music of the Night and he showed me how and the melodies and whatnot. I loved how he was patient and kind and never raised his voice, even when I made pretty stupid mistakes. I realized I could have sung there all day.

I tried and failed to shake off the giddy feeling I got when I thought about him. I barely even knew him. Besides, I have Geo….

"He likes you a lot. He loves your voice and he thinks you're really pretty and wants to get to know you," Tom explained. "And since I know he'll be asking me, what did you think of him?"

"He seems," _incredible, wonderful, magnificent,_ "nice."

Tom nodded. "That's cool."

The door suddenly opened and slammed shut. Tom and I jumped at the sudden sound and turned to see Gustav panting and holding Tom's door closed.

"Hide me!" he whispered and he hid on the floor, behind the bed, where my legs were dangling.

Tom and I exchanged looks and shrugs.

"Why?" we whispered back at him at the same time.

"Maxine," he started.

_Here we go_, I thought.

"What about her?"

"She asked me if her hair looked nice and I said yes since I didn't know what else to say and now she thinks we're getting married!" his brown eyes were wide with fear and anxiety.

I couldn't blame him. "Being married to Maxine _would_ be a fate worse than death," I agreed.

"Exactly and now she's after me!" Gustav whimpered.

Tom and I exchanged glances. We heard Maxine's voice from down the hall calling for Gustav and we both threw him into Tom's closet.

"It'll have to do for now," Tom smirked.

…1 week later…

As I walked out of the ballet room and down the hall, I was a woman on a mission.

Tom was right about Bill's not wanting to talk. I'd see him every other night, and he seemed more and more anxious every time, more and more scared of something every time. He'd tell me I looked pretty and my voice was coming along wonderfully and comment softly on whatever I'd happened to be talking about…

But during ballet practice today, I had time to think. _Really_ think.

I had to talk to Bill – I had to. After I took in everything into consideration – he appearing in my dreams before I'd met him, his unparalleled voice, his unparalleled musical genius, the being referred to as the Angel of Music, though no one's seen him except Tom and I – I knew one thing for sure.

I'm not sure how it just now dawned on me, but it did.

Bill wasn't human – at least, not completely. But he and Tom were twins and Tom was very human…which means Bill was born human….

_Did he tell you what happened?_ Tom's voice rang in my ears.

Blood drained out of my face.

There were three things, if nothing else, that I knew for sure:

1) Bill wasn't human.

2) For how long and how he became inhuman and what type of inhuman he was, was unclear

3) From the moment he'd first appeared to be in that first night's dream, I've been secretly in love with him.

Meeting him in person just confirmed everything.

"Hey, Chrisschross," Geo's voice said into my ear as I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist. "Did you sleep well last night?"

I smiled, "Why?"

"You said you were having trouble sleeping, so I wondered if that had passed," he explained.

"Yeah," I smiled. "I slept great last night."

"So, are you busy…right now?"

_Yes._ "No."

"Would you like to…go out tonight with me?" he asked.

_No._ "Sure."

…

Geo had changed so much since I'd last seen him. He was a big-shot now. He made the rules now, instead of following them. He wasn't the shy little boy I'd once had a crush on.

He'd grown up. He was a man now.

There was one thing I didn't like – he was perfect; he acted perfect. He acted too perfect.

"So, Chrissy, I was just wondering…" he started after we'd just placed our orders.

"Yes?"

"Who's Bill?"

I froze. I could feel every drop of blood in my veins freeze. The hair on the back of my neck rose, goose bumps rose on my arms and I got a feeling of panic in my stomach.

There was only one thing I hysterical mind knew to do: play dumb.

"Bill?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Chrissy, is this that "Angel of Music" that everyone's been talking about? The one that everyone thinks you've been visited by?"

This is his business…how?

"Have you ever considered that maybe this Angel of Music is also that Opera Ghost that's going around and killing everyone?"

"What killings?" I asked. This one, I seriously did know nothing about.

"Well, he almost killed Signora Guidicelli. Then it was that office assistant. One of the other singers have gone missing; they suspect him to be dead, too," Geo explained.

Bill…killing people…no. No. No. NO! That's not him.

"You're wrong," I whispered.

"Christina, you need to stay away from him."

"You're wrong," I said, a little louder.

"Christina, he's a monster and you need to-"

"Okay, you can just stop right there!" I snapped. "You're not my father, and I don't need you telling me what I need to do!"

"Christina-" 

"I'm not a child anymore, Georg! Stop treating me one!"

I left, and once I was outside, I sprinted as fast as my legs would let me go to the opera house.

I left a note on my mirror:

_Bill_

_We need to talk. Meet me at the cemetery as soon as you get this. Please._

_Christina_


	7. Chapter 7

It took me about ten minutes to flag down a cab – I was seventeen and had my driver's license, but I was lacking a car. Having a driver's license really does me no good without a car.

The driver had long, stringy black hair that was parted in the middle. A lip piercing was on his bottom lip – it offhandedly reminded me of Tom's – and his skin was this strange tan-ish-yellow. He was dressed in all black that looked to be an executioner's outfit.

I quickly looked at my phone while getting in and laughed at myself for being suspicious.

Today was October 31st – Halloween.

"Where to, Miss?" he asked.

"The cemetery, please," I answered absentmindedly.

Not but a moment later, a shiver raced down my spine and it had nothing to do with the cold. The taxi driver was speaking Russian. We were in Germany. It was like…he knew I spoke Russian…like…he was expecting me or something….

I shook it off – that had to be my imagination. He doesn't know me. I don't know him. And I had bigger things to think about.

…

The ride there was long. I'd planned to come visit my parents – well, my dad. I never knew my mom. I took a moment to remember him; the strong man that I looked up to. The one who was always there for me, and still loved me no matter what I did or what kind of trouble I got myself into. He was the one who read fairy-tales to me and tucked me into bed and checked for monsters in my closet all those nights when I was little.

I sighed; I missed my dad.

When the taxi stopped in front of the cemetery, I listened hard at what language the driver was using.

"_Vielen Dank, Fraulein_," he smiled, taking the tip I handed him.

My stupid overactive imagination.

I was wearing black skinny jeans, purple Vans, and a white All Time Low t-shirt with a white jacket with printed black lace on it. My red cellphone was in my left hand and my iPod and spare twenty dollars were in my back pocket.

I shivered – it was unusually cold for this time of year. Golden leaves rustled through the trees and fell to the ground around me. Some landed on the sculptures of angels around me. I loved angels – I'd always had a kind of odd obsession with them – but these angels looked as cold and foreboding as the gray, overcast sky today.

It would be that way when I went to visit my dad's grave.

_You were once my one companion_

_You were all that mattered_

_You were once a friend and father_

_Then my world was shattered_

I stopped briefly, looking around for the path I wanted.

_Wishing you were somehow here again_

_Wishing you were somehow near_

_Sometimes it seemed_

_If I just dreamed_

_Somehow you would be here_

_Wishing I could hear your voice again_

_Knowing that I never would_

_Dreaming of you_

_Won't help me to do_

_All that you dreamed I could_

My dad was awesome – he never pried or made me do things I wasn't comfortable with. He was always my shoulder to cry on. He was the person I went to when I needed advice, homework help, or just simply wanted to talk about even the stupidest things.

_Passing bells and sculpted angels_

_Cold and monumental_

I paused.

_Sing for you, the wrong companions_

_You were warm and gentle_

I wasn't sure why I felt eyes on me, but I did. From behind me, I heard a twig snap. As I whorled around, there was nothing.

My imagination. I tried to convince myself that this place just freaked me out and I was fine and it was only my imagination at work.

It's what my dad would have told me when I got scared like this.

_Too many years_

_Fighting back tears_

_Why can't the past just die?_

_Wishing you were somehow here again_

I reached his grave and knelt in front of it, wiping a tear away from my face.

_Knowing we must say goodbye_

_Try to forgive_

_Teach me to live_

_Give me the strength to try_

_No more memories_

_No more silent tears_

_No more gazing across the wasted years_

_Help me say goodbye_

_Help me say goodbye_

…

I'm not sure how long I stayed there, curled up. Ten minutes? Twenty? Thirty, even? I wondered if Bill got my note. I wondering whether or not a cemetery was really the smartest choice for a meeting place…if he is really who Georg says he is….

I shook the idea from my brain. He would have hurt me. He wouldn't have let me live if he was a soulless murderer. I refuse to believe that all those people were dead by his hand…

_Well, Christina, you can never really know someone_, my dad's voice replayed in my head after talking about one of my elementary school crisis.

I didn't really know Bill that well, though it felt like I'd known him for close to forever…

_Wandering child_

_So lost, so helpless_

_Yearning for my guidance_

I looked up. That wasn't Bill's voice, but I replied anyway. How was I supposed to know I was going to regret it?

_Angel or father_

_Friend or phantom_

_Who is it there staring?_

_Have you forgotten your angel?_

_Angel, or speak_

_What endless longings_

_Echo in this whisper_

_Too long you've wandered in winter_

_Far from my far-reaching gaze_

_Wildly my mind beats against this_

_But the soul obeys_

_Angel of-_

"Christina!"

I was snapped out of it – I was being hypnotized?

"Christina, nein!"

I turned around. "Bill…"

I gasped as a black figure jumped down in front of me. It was the taxi driver and he turned back to get a better look at me.

Joseph bouquet's words echoed in my head

_Like yellow parchment is his skin_

And I was at a loss for words.

"You stupid boy!" the Ghost hissed and Bill took a blow to the unmasked part of his face and fell to the ground.

The ghost looked at me and smirked. "It's not nice to deceive people, you know. Does she know you for what you really are?"

_What_…not _who_. I was scared. I wanted to run, to take Bill with me, back to Russia. Maybe even to America. But my legs wouldn't work I was frozen in place.

The Ghost grabbed Bill by his hair and forced his face upward, where I could see it. He removed the mask and….

There were scars there – long, white, mangles scars in the shape of a…pentagram.

Then the Ghost pulled a sword out.

"No!" I screamed, but with only a gesture of his hand, I was forced back against a grave.

He sliced the back of Bill's shirt in half and forced it open.

I couldn't stop staring. Folded tightly against his back, were two black wings. No, not just two. I counted six in all – they were seraph wings.

I was right about his being inhuman. He was an angel…seraph…seraph-angel. But he was trapped by this…demon.

I stood my ground as the ghost then left him shivering on the cold ground and walked up to me. I didn't dare make eye contact as he caressed my face with his bony hand.

"How can you possibly love someone who lied to you? At least I would be honest," the ghost kissed my hand and turned his attention back to Bill.

I watched horror-stricken as he cut two of Bill's six wings from his back…and then vanished into thin air just that easily.

I dashed over took what was left of his shirt to use as a bandage to help me stop the bleeding. I sacrificed my jacket to keep him warm.

I pulled out my phone to call 9-1-1.

Out of service.

"_Really_?" I screamed at it.

"Christina," Bill choked. "I'm…so…sorry."

"Bill, I need you to tell me what happened to you."

"That…isn't…important…now. It's…you…he…wants."


	8. Chapter 8

**Holy Shiitake Mushrooms. I am soooooooo sorry I haven't updated in forever! I completely forgot about this account! So I'm uploading the rest of this story tonight to make up for being gone for so long! Please forgive me.**

I took Bill home that night, trying to not stress about the "it's you he wants part" and think about getting Bill the care he needed.

Seriously – I couldn't take him to a hospital. They would be asking questions as to why he had wings and they would display him and it'd be on the news along with the horror story we have going on with this "opera ghost" and they'd expect me to know the answers of "who exactly is he?" and "why does he want anything to do with you or this…humanoid?".

Those are all questions I have myself that I'm looking for answers to. Though, I probably should have found someone who would keep the secret, someone in the opera house, someone who knew everything…

I called Tom.

After taking about fifteen minutes to explain – in detail – exactly what happened, it wasn't a minute after I hung up with him that he was at the door to my dorm. Bill was lying on my bed, swaddled with as many blankets and sheets as I could find, and drugged with as much Motrin as you could give a person without hurting them. I'd done my best to clean and wrap his open wounds…how no one heard the screaming is something I will probably never understand. Though Motrin is a trusted painkiller, it's not an anesthetic. I think he felt everything.

Look, I'm not a doctor. I only know the basics.

Tom was speechless as he sat down next to his injured brother.

"Are you still not going to tell me what happened?" I asked, my tone harsher than I intended. "Did you know about this "opera ghost" all along?"

"Of course I knew! I'd just never realized it'd come to this," Tom replied, sounding on the verge of tears.

I'd instantly felt bad for snapping.

"I'm sorry, Bill," Tom said him. "If he's after her now, she needs to know."

Bill only gave a slight nod. Obviously, he was too drowsy to do any talking.

"Start from the beginning," I ordered.

Tom sighed and began his speech, "It all started the day Bill and I were born. I was ten minutes older than Bill and everything was fine for me, but for Bill there were…complications."

"What kind of complications?" I asked, listening carefully to every word that came off his lips.

"Just…problems. Health malfunctions. I was there, but I don't exactly remember any of it! I heard this story later!"

"From who? Your mom?"

"No, our mom didn't survive. Just from what I heard was there was so much blood and Bill wasn't breathing and his heart was giving out…just complications! Stuff like that!"

"Then what happened?"

"T-there was someone there; i-in the-the delivery room. A man, but not our father. Bill and I had – well, should have had – identical dirty blond hair, but we didn't. _Mine_ had always been dirty blond, but Bill's had always been black. It was-"

"Because your mother, God rest her soul, was desperate to save her second son," a voice snapped Tom and I out of our argument to see Frau Schafer. Blood drained out of our faces. How loud were we talking?

"And that would be who told me the story of our birth," Tom said softly.

"Frau Schafer?" I asked.

"I was their mother's companion throughout her pregnancy – she was so young when she conceived them," Frau explained. "I know, Christina that you are in danger. I think I would do a better job of explaining this than Tom."

"Please go on."

"Simone was desperate to save her son. The man offered a decade with Bill, before he was to become his. I tried my hardest to tell her that it was a trick; that it would hurt much more to let him go after the ten years have passed. She wouldn't listen to me. She took the man's offer. But just as her baby boy drew his first breath, she drew her last. The twins have lived here at the Opera house ever since. When Bill turned ten he just…went missing."

"But you and Tom always knew where he was," I finished.

"He allowed us to see him," Tom added.

"But not me. And that's why he's so pissed now? And how does the whole "he wants you, Malachi" thing have to do with anything? I started hanging out with Bill. Now he wants to kill me?"

"It's you he's wanted all along," Bill's cracking, hoarse voice came in a raspy whisper.

All three of our heads shot to his direction.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"He…he used me to get to you. He heard your voice the same time I did. Christina, I swear I didn't know. I brought you down there with me that night because I wanted to be with you – not because he made me. It wasn't until you left that morning that he told me his plans. I should have never-"

"Shhh," I placed a finger to his lips. "I don't regret a minute we spent together. Neither should you. This guy is a lunatic – it's not your fault."

"He's a smart and lethal lunatic. I've spent the last eight years imprisoned by him – Christina, he's a force to be afraid of. He's not just your average serial killer."

"I never said he was just an average serial killer. I kind of figured he was…well…different, to put things lightly," I responded. I then looked back at Frau and Tom. "I mean, seriously. Who – wait a minute, what – is this guy? Is he like…the devil or something?"

Frau and Tom exchanged worried glances.

"Oh gosh," I said, putting the pieces together. "He is, isn't he?"


	9. Chapter 9

-3 days later-

I was surprised, to be honest, that I wasn't rocking back and forth in a corner or being checked into a mental hospital or both by now, knowing that most people would be, considering my excruciating circumstances. Those including: my soul mate is a trapped/condemned soul and also the Angel of Music (in a way) and Satan wants to possess me for my voice.

I thought of possible things to try and stop all of this; join a screamo band so my voice gets all scratchy and not as pretty.

I'm also very surprised that three days have passed without any voices, us trying to get sabotaged by any other supernatural forces of evil.

I sighed and smoothed my dress out.

Since Bill was healing way faster than any normal human would be, he was my date tonight for the Masquerade. Besides, he wears a mask to hide his devilish scars, so the Masquerade was the perfect place for a "date".

The four wings Bill had left were still in working order and the only thing that was left now of the gaping wounds left by the "Opera Ghost" were angry pink scars in the shape of slits just above his second pair of wings.

The dress code of the masquerade was eighteenth century Europe, so ball gowns were a big thing. My hair was curled with little white flowers clipped in at various places. My dress was floor length and strapless with colors of purple with gold embroidery. My mask was gold with black lace surrounding the edges.

I bent down to slip on my high heels, not paying attention to anything else. I looked back up to see Bill standing silently behind me, his brown eyes wide on me.

"Y-you look…beautiful, Christina," he stammered. I smiled.

"You look good, too," I smiled. He had on a black tux, a black mask that hid most of his face, and…basically it all made him look like he just hopped out of a time machine that had landed here in the future. "And by the way…you _do_ have my permission to call me Chrissy. It's less of a mouthful."

"Chrissy, you look stunning…and I have something to go along with your costume."

I turned back to look at him, not his reflection. "Really?"

"Yes…if you'll accept it, that is."

"Accept what?"

From his jacket pocket, Bill pulled out a silver necklace chain…and on the end of that chain was a ring. A diamond ring. One of those rings that you see advertised on jewelry store commercials.

Wait a minute…

"Christina Anastasia Soloviova…I know we're young and haven't really been seeing each other for that long, but I just…I know. I know when I think dream about you, I know when I think about you, I know when I look at you, I just know," he explained before wrapping his arms around my waist. "Christina, will you marry me?"

With my throat currently clogged from all the rushing emotions I felt, I could only nod and throw my arms around him

_Masquerade!_

_Paper faces on parade!_

_Masquerade!_

_Hide your face so the world will never find you!_

Everything was a swirling mess. It seemed, really, as if I were dreaming. No one gave us a second glance, seeing at they were all wearing masks and ball-attire as well as us. We almost didn't recognize Tom and Gustav, though Tom's dreadlocks were a dead giveaway and we kind of figured Gustav would be hanging around him.

But we only waved hi to them for a second before being whisked away somewhere else in this swirling mess of colors.

_Masquerade!_

_Look around -_

_there's another_

_mask behind you!_

_Flash of mauve._

_Splash of puce._

_Fool and king._

_Ghoul and goose._

_Green and black._

_Queen and priest._

_Trace of rouge._

_Face of beast._

_Faces_

_Take your turn._

_Take a ride._

_On a merry - go - round_

_In an inhuman race_

_Eye of gold._

_Thigh of blue._

_True is false._

_Who is who?_

_Curl of lip._

_Swirl of gown._

_Ace of hearts._

_Face of clown._

_Faces._

_Drink it in_

_Drink it up_

_'til you drown in the light._

_In the sound._

_But who can name that face?_ Bill and I sang with the crowd of others. Berlin was a musical city, at least those at the opera hour were. The night carried on like that for the better part of the time we were there.

_Masquerade!_

_Grinning yellows,_

_spinning reds._

_Masquerade!_

_Take your fill -_

_let the spectacle_

_astound you!_

_Masquerade!_

_Burning glances,_

_turning heads._

_Masquerade!_

_Stop and stare_

_at the sea of smiles_

_around you!_

_Masquerade!_

_Seething shadows_

_breathing lies._

_Masquerade!_

_You can fool_

_any friend who_

_ever knew you!_

_Masquerade!_

_Leering satyrs,_

_peering eyes._

_Masquerade!_

_Run and hide -_

_but a face will_

_still pursue you_

"_What a night!" _I saw Frau Schafer on the stairwell.

"_What a crowd!" _I heard Meg say to someone next to her.

"_Make you glad!"_

"_Make you proud. All the crème de la crème."_

"_Watching us and watching them."_

"_And all our fears are in the past!"_

"_Three months!"_

"_Of relief!"_

"_Of delight!"_

"_Of Elysian peace!"_

"_And we can breathe at last!"_

"_No more notes!"_

"_No more ghost!"_

"_Here's a health!"_

"_Here's a toast: to a prosperous year!"_

"_To our friends who are here."_

"_May the splendor never fade!"_

"_What a blessed release!"_

"_And what a masquerade."_

I looked around at all those different people, all those smiling faces, some I knew, some I didn't, but I took in the realness of what went on before.

I was engaged.

And none of them knew.

That sent good shivers down my spine.

I pulled Bill into a hallway on the outskirts of the lobby/ballroom. "Think of it," I told him, "A secret engagement. Look: your future bride. Just think of it."

"I know," he said as he hugged me. We both knew why it had to be secret. Both our lives and the lives of the people we loved were at stake.

_Masquerade!_

_Paper faces on parade_

_Masquerade! _

_Hide your face so the world will never find you_

_Masquerade! _

_Every face a different shade_

_Masquerade! _

_Look around, there's another mask behind you_

_Masquerade! _

_Burning glances, turning heads_

_Masquerade! _

_Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you_

_Masquerade! _

_Grinning yellows, spinning reds_

_Masquerade!_

_Take your fill, let the spectacle astound you._

Just as the crowd was singing, everything just stopped and a thick cloud of dread entered the atmosphere. It was not ignorable. It was inescapable. It was everywhere.

The lights dimmed. Many candles blew out. And a huge, dark figure stood at the top of the staircase. My and Bill's face went ten times as white. We both knew instantly who it was.

_Why so silent, good messieurs?_

_Did you think that I had left you for good?_

_Have you missed me, good messieurs?_

_I have written you an opera._

_Here, I bring the finish score._

_Don Juan Triumphant!_

_Fondest greetings to you all_

_A few instructions just before rehearsal starts_

_Carlotta must be taught to act_

_Not her normal trick of strutting 'round the stage_

_Our Don Juan must loose some weight_

_It's not healthy in a man of Piangi's age_

_And my managers must learn that their place is in an office_

_Not the arts_

_As for our star, Miss Christina Soloviova..._

And he turned to stare directly at me. I felt like there was some sort of spotlight on me as he sang.

How he found me – us – in this mess, I will never understand.

_No doubt she'll do her best_

_It's true, her voice is good_

_She knows, though_

_Should she wish to excel_

_She has much still to learn_

_If pride will let her return to me, her teacher_

_Her teacher…_

Teacher? No. Bill, my fiancé, my Angel of Music was my teacher…right?

I looked at Bill, who'd disappeared.

Though by now everyone was staring at me, and I felt my feet move forward against my will. There was silence. I saw nothing in his eyes except fire and lust. No, he knew nothing of love.

It was when he spotted the ring around my neck that his fire and lust turned to fire and anger.

_Your chains are still mine!_

I was frozen solid as he yanked the chain and ring from my neck.

_You will sing for ME!_


	10. Chapter 10

The last thing I remember was just…darkness. Noises came and went around me…voices.

I wasn't sure where I was…I didn't remember….

I gasped, sitting straight up and looking around.

"Christina, are you okay?" a voice asked from somewhere in the room. It sounded too far away to make out whose it was. The room was way to blurry to see anything and refused to stop spinning to help stop the ache in my head.

My name was thrown in the air a million times or more.

"Where is she?" a voice yelled above the rest. It sounded vaguely familiar, though I couldn't at all put a face or a name to it…

"Chrissy!" the voice shouted again. "Out of my way! Chrissy!"

Out of fog, a face appeared inches away from mine and a pair of hands grabbed my shoulders.

"Chrissy, can you hear me?" the face asked. It was a lovely face; tan skin, big caramel-colored eyes, a lips ring. "Chrissy, please talk to me! Someone, get a doctor!" the face called to someone else.

This face looked familiar.

It reminded me of something….

I was looking for something; someone was in danger. The only thing that my mind said was that I was looking for someone…someone important. Someone I knew…someone I trusted…

Someone I loved….

The black emptiness of my mental space was instantly filled with pictures; bright pictures of everything.

The dreams…

The voice lessons…

The fateful, candlelit night I was taken by the hand…

The shocking realization…

The cemetery and confirmation….

Tom. Tom was here. Tom was talking to me.

And Bill. He was the one I loved. He was the one in danger.

Yet I was too. And so was Tom.

"Chrissy?" he asked again.

"Tom."

"Chrissy, what happened?"

"I don't know…but Bill is in trouble," I said before looking up. "Where is he?"

"Bill's gone. He was taken," Tom admitted, looking very sad himself.

My eyes squeezed shut, trying to hold back tears. My hands clenched into fists and my knuckles screamed in pain as they repeatedly hit the ground. "How to we save him? What do I have to do?"

I looked at Tom through my teary eyes to see him exchange a glace with Frau Schafer. They both knew.

"He'll take you, Christina. There wouldn't be any going back and –"

"I don't care," I snarled, squeezed my eyes closed and clenching my fists again. "How do I save Bill?"

Tom sighed. "By doing what the Opera Ghost wanted. Sing for him."


	11. Chapter 11

The rest of that day consisted of hiding away in my dorm room for hours on end with Tom, Frau and Gustav, since he wanted to know what was going on and who I'd been at the Masquerade with and who was the guy talking about me and so on and so forth.

Geo had gotten all indignant and went back to Munich after I'd snapped at him. I was likely never to see him again, but oh well.

Most of the time spent in my dorm consisted for Tom and I crying here and their, watching sappy movies on ABC Family and Gustav sitting awkwardly in the corner, not really sure what to do. It was only a few minutes later that Frau filled him in on our drama…which meant he was part of it and in danger now, too.

He was shocked that all of this had been going in between his best friends and mother and he'd been so blind to it all. But we told him that it was for his safety and we'd meant to keep it a secret. He seemed semi-okay with that…somewhat.

Mostly it was Tom and I crying, but Frau did, here and there, too. After all, Bill was practically like her son.

Sleep was another thing that went on. Someone came to check on me. Frau lied about my being just fine.

I got up around five-thirty (in the afternoon) and went into the bathroom – I had an idea. Why I hadn't thought of this before, I don't know, but I just now did. And it was a pretty good idea, I think, seeing as he was an angel…or at least I think he was. I was sure what to think.

So I knelt down on the bathroom floor and I prayed – and prayed hard in my native Russian language. For guidance, for strength, for any divine intervention I could get at all, I prayed for it. I prayed for Bill's safety, begging God that he wouldn't be harmed…at least, not more than he was to begin with.

As soon as I said "amen" I had an idea…well, a question that could serve as an idea as well.

So apparently this Opera Ghost wants me – why did he kidnap Bill, then? Why not take me instead?

Unless…

There has _got_ to be something else going on here…but good luck to me finding out what.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Tom asked while sauntering slowly behind me, down the passageway behind my mirror. We both clung tightly to the flashlights and pocket knives in our hands as we ascended deeper into the catacombs of the opera house.

"What else can we do?" I asked back. Usually, when Bill had led me down here late at night, to work on my voice and the music he'd written it had been all lit up and pretty with the golden candelabras and whatnot. But now, it was dark and dank and reminded me somewhat of a sewer tunnel – at least, the ones in various movies, since I'd never actually been in one myself. There were cobwebs I'd never noticed before and mice squeaked here and there.

I think Tom was more freaked out about it than I was.

He sighed. "I guess you're right."

There was silence as we kept walking. "Follow Me Down" by 3OH!3 was playing loudly in my head and I matched my footsteps to match the beat of the song.

I smiled when I heard Maria, Bill's black stallion; because I knew we were close. Hopefully, there was some sign as to what happened down to him down here…this was the only place I knew to look.

"Hey, Maria," I said softly, petting her nose to get her calm. "It's just me."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "He has a horse down here?"

"You didn't know? I thought you came down often to see him."

"I don't usually take this route."

I looked at him peculiarly. "You're saying that there's another way down here?" I mounted Maria and Tom climbed on behind me.

"Yeah, around back, but it's more like a maze that way. Of course, it'd be easier for you," he said with sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Uh huh," I agreed absently, moving his hand to adjust the light where I needed to see.


	12. Chapter 12

"You see him?" Tom called from another end of Bill's underground home.

I sighed, shining the flashlight to illuminate the dark spaces he could he hiding in. "No, there's nothing here."

"Well…" Tom said his frustration showing in his voice. "Where the hell could that bastard have taken him?

He paused for a minute, us both realizing in the exact same moment that Tom may have said the answer in his question.

"Oh insert you choice of Russian swear word here. Why this? Why us?" I paused, letting my weary head fall into my hands. I realized that, even if we did find a way to smuggle Bill back into society and get something that can hide scars, this would never end. This "Opera Ghost" would still be after us, after what he would say was "rightfully his". The beginnings of tears stung my eyes.

"I think we better go now, Chrissy," Tom put a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. "He's not here and might not even be in a place we could get to him. There's nothing we can do right now."

I wanted to stay. I wanted to go to the ends of the earth to find Bill and make sure he was safe so we could run away somewhere, get married and have a normal – as normal as we could get – relationship and whatnot, but I knew Tom was right. At least as of right now, there was nothing I – we – could do about The Opera Ghost's power over Bill.

I just hope I don't fall into a trap and become his, too.

"No!" I screamed at the dark figures surrounding the pole where my love was tied. "Let him go!"

No one did anything. No one moved. No one turned. They all kept their dark eye sockets glued to him, but did nothing. Their bony skeletal faces made it seem like they were smiling, though I couldn't tell if they were or not. They wore huge, thick-looking black cloaks, though I was sweating. I'd been in hot weather before – up to 99 degrees – though this temperature surpassed it by a great deal.

Since no one seemed to care about me, I made my way past the crowd and up by Bill. I was shocked to see that no one did anything.

"Bill!" I tapped the side of his face. "Bill, can you hear me?"

There was something different about him, though. His features were set a little harder than normal, his scars set too much into a perfect shape. His eyes opened and he smiled, showing off a mouthful of too sharp teeth. His eyes – they were not the pretty, deep pools of molten dark chocolate that I knew so well – they were red. Blood red. Like, his entire eye – even his pupils and the whites around his iris.

I jumped back as this raspy voice hissed at me.

"You should take a closer look at who your angel is."

I sat straight up, screaming and crying. My heart was racing and my breathing came staggering and erratic.

"Chrissy!" a familiar voice said, while arms tried to calm me. "Chrissy, it was just a dream."

It took me a minute to realize who was talking to me – that voice…that soothing, calm, patient voice….

It was…! …or was it really?

"Get away from me!" I hissed at him and fumbled over the blankets to get around him, though he got to my lamp before I did, blinding me with the sudden bright light.

"Chrissy, look at me!" he argued with me. I didn't want to – I didn't want to see his blood red eyes, again. But I had no choice. I averted my eyes to his…and was amazed. There was no blood red. Just warm chocolate brown, like normal eyes. His features were soft and beautiful – the way they always had been.

It was Bill. He was back. He was here, with no strings attached.

There were no words for what I was feeling in that moment – joy, relief, happiness, shock…. I threw my arms around his next and kissed him with a passion I never thought was possible. And while I was kissing him, I had no doubts – this was my Bill and not some sick interpretation of him. I thanked God for this moment. Tom and I couldn't have helped him – how else could he have gotten out, short of a miracle?

"I'm here, Chrissy," he whispered in my ear, when tears of joy streamed down my face. "I'm here with you."

"I…I thought…I thought you were…" I trailed. "Gone. Forever. I thought…."

"Shhh," he raised a finger to my lips.

_No more talk of darkness_

_Forget these wide-eyed fears_

_I'm here – Nothing can harm you_

_My words will warm and calm you_

_Let me be your freedom – let daylight dry your tears_

_I'm here – With you, beside you_

_To guard you and to guide you_

I looked into his eyes – this was something I realized I could never get tired of doing.

_Say you'll love me every waking moment_

_Turn my head with talk of summertime_

_Say you need me with you now and always_

_Promise me that all you say is true_

_That's all I ask you_

Bill sat on my bed with his back leaning against the wall and I curled next to him, resting my head against his chest and listening to0 his heart go _thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump._

_Let me be your shelter_

_Let me be your light_

_You're safe – no one will find you_

_Your fears are far behind me_

I looked up at him.

_All I want is freedom_

_A world with no more night_

_And you always beside me_

_To hold me and to hide me_

His arms tightened around me.

_Then say you'll share with me_

_One love – one lifetime_

_Let me lead you from your solitude_

_Say you need me with you_

_Here, beside you_

_Anywhere you go, let me go, too_

_Chrissy, that's all I ask of you_

_Say you'll share with me_

_One love – one lifetime_

_Say the word and I will follow you_

_Share each day with me_

_Each night, each morning_

_Say you love me_

_You know I do_

Bill's lips met mine again.

_Love me, that's all I ask of you_


	13. Chapter 13

-fast forward about…hmm…*thinking face* three or so weeks-

3 weeks. Nothing. Nothing at all. No being chased by some crazy opera ghost. No voices or odd dreams or deathly shadows stalking us. Gustav met Bill. Bill and Tom were reunited. I stared up at the ceiling on that morning, thinking about it. I could see it. An end. Finally, an end was in sight, if we've made it this far.

But then my mind danced back to the opera given by the Opera Ghost. The owners hadn't dared touch it yet; as far as I knew, they were still wondering whether or not to preform it. I think they were guessing, still, on whether or not I was sane enough to sing the part that was already assigned to me without even me auditioning.

That was something I wasn't even sure of.

Bill was lying next to me. His chest moved up and down with his steady breathing, his wings curled around us. He looked so peaceful – almost childlike – while asleep. He wasn't wearing a mask, but his hair covered that side of his face almost completely.

Though I had a strange feeling – I knew something. I don't know how I knew, but it just knew that – for whatever reason – there was something he wasn't telling me.

But something in my stomach lurched in a way that didn't feel all too great.

I wiggled my way off the bed somehow and made a sprinting bee-line to the bathroom just in time for me to throw up. I felt like absolute crap and had a feeling that it was going to be a crappy day.

How suckish of this day to turn out so crappy.

"Chrissy?" I heard Bill's voice from the other side of the door. It was just then that I realized I would have woken him with all the commotion I made trying to get to the bathroom in time. "Chrissy, are you well?"

"No," I said, surprised at how hoarse my voice had gotten. "I feel sick. Tell Frau I'm not gonna be at practice today."

"Okay, I will," he replied before I heard his footsteps walking away. "I love you."

"Love you, too, angel," I smiled.

-about an hour later-

"Where are you going?" Bill asked. I was already dressed in our required ballet attire and dance shoes and whatnot and was heading out the door.

"Practice. It goes on almost all day."

"But I thought you were sick…"

I thought about that. "Yeah, I don't know what that was, but I feel a LOT better now, though."

"Okay…" he gave me a wary look, but said nothing else.

I was worried about myself more the next morning, when the same odd twang in my stomach made me rush towards the bathroom again.

…and the next morning after that…

…and the morning after that…

I'd been sleeping later than was normal for me. Mood swings had been a problem.

"So, Monday at 11:00am? Okay. Okay. Yes, that's all. Okay. Thank you. Bye," Bill hung the phone up and have me a little slip of paper with a time, date and address.

"What's this?" I asked.

"You're going to see a doctor."

I raised an eyebrow. "You made an appointment for me?"

"You've been throwing up every morning for the past five days, Chrissy. I might not have been human for the past eight years, but I know that's not normal," Bill said assertively. "Please go. I'll even go with you, if you want. But, if for nothing else but my sanity, _please_ just-"

I silenced him with a quick kiss. "Okay," I smiled. "I wasn't arguing. Now come on." I began to drag him towards the door.

"Where are we going?"

"Frau's making schnitzel tonight."

"So, Christina," Dr. Lars looked through a medical file with my name on it. "You're a ballet dancer?"

"That's correct."

I was sitting on the exam table and Bill was sitting on the chair in the corner, holding my coat. It was late November and light snow blanketed the ground. I flashing him a small smile – he was looking as normal as I'd seen him…ever. It was amazing the miracles concealer and foundation could work when used the right way. His hair did the rest of the work, falling in front of that side of his face.

"So obviously, you take pretty good care of yourself," the doctor went on, keeping her eyes down on the file. "My daughter is taking ballet right now. Of course, she's only seven, but I've seen all the work and dedication that goes into that kind of dancing. I really admire you guys – I think you have more training than most professional athletes." Her eyes danced up to me. "Have you been dancing for long?"

"At the opera house, I've been there for a little over a year. But I was dancing long before that."

She nodded. "So, you say that you're feeling nauseous in the mornings?"

"Yes, but it usually goes away quickly after I've thrown up," I explained.

"Hmm…" Dr. Lars looked very deep in thought and I flashed Bill a blank stare.

"Have you changed your diet at all lately? Maybe you've been eating something that didn't agree with you?" she asked.

I thought about that for a moment and shook my head.

She returned to her deep, lost-in-though-ness. Her eyes quickly scanned Bill before widening and I knew an idea just came to mind and she asked me a question that got me scared.

"Christina, what was the first day of your last menstrual cycle?"

I opened my mouth with a definite answer, but I closed it, horrified at what I just realized.

"Christina, do you not know?" Dr. Lars pressed.

"No, I know but…that seems way to far back…" I trailed off. How I couldn't have seen this, I don't know, but I went over the math in my head over and over again and it all pointed the exact same thing. My period was almost a week and a half late.

I had never been late a day in my life. Early, a few times, yes; but never late – never. It just didn't happen. My body just didn't work that way.

But I was late now.

"Christina, are you sexually active?" Dr. Lars inquired.

"Not…usually…"

"Have you had sex within the last month?"

I looked at Bill, whose original look of boredom had been completely wiped off his face. It was easy to tell that we both were thinking the exact same thing.

"Well…"

There was nothing by silence between us as Bill and I walked home that night. I went straight to the bathroom with the test we'd received courtesy of the doctor's office.

I think it was the longest five minutes I'd ever lived through and during it, I thought about all the turmoil we were in: I wasn't sure if the opera ghost was gone for good or just plotting his next move. Bill was still unknown to the world. How long could we seriously stay hidden? How long could we seriously keep this hidden from the rest of the opera house? And if I am pregnant, people would want to know who the father is.

As soon as the timer dinged, a loud rumble went through everywhere. I thought it was an earthquake, until I heard something else that made my heart stop.

You will curse the day you did not do

All that the phantom asked of you!

I grabbed the test and started to sprint for the door to the bathroom. Bill met me at the doorway.

"Chrissy, what is it?" he yelled urgently above the rumbling.

I looked down and almost dropped it. I gulped, trying to find my voice and to swallow the huge lump in my throat, and looked back up at him through teary eyes.

"Positive."


	14. Chapter 14

"Miss Soloviova!" Messieurs Andre and Firmin's voices rang through the early morning stillness of the dormitory, right outside my door. It brought both Bill and I out of our sound sleep and we both jumped awake at their sudden voices. The banging on the door was quite loud; we almost though they'd break the door.

Our hearts were in our throats. Seriously – what could they want this early from a ballet dancer?

But we both knew the answer to that. As if the night of the masquerade, hadn't been bad enough, we knew my name had to have come up again somewhere. In a letter or something akin to that, most likely.

"Miss Soloviova!"

"How dare him! That girl does not have the voice for such a role!" I heard Carlotta's voice over the other voices. "Or the stage presence!"

"Well, he requested that you be left out of the leading roles."

"That bastard! How dare he choose someone less qualified that me!"

The bickering went on and I whispered to Bill to hide somewhere, when the door opened and quickly closed. We both froze, until we saw that it was Frau.

"Christina," she started. "We need you."

I gave Bill a quick, confused glance, before following Frau into the hysteria outside.

"Ah, here's our little flower," Carlotta sneered on my arrival.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. When I turned my head, I saw Tom. I gave him a small smile.

"Ah, Miss Soloviova's quite the lady of the hour," Monsieur Firmin said. "She's seemed to have secured the largest role in this Don Juan."

Horror-shocked, I mean, I'd known this, but hearing it out loud, confided it; almost like a death sentence. I wrapped my arms around Tom's waist, burying my face in his chest. I was glad I had support right now with me; Bill was most likely pressing his ear up against the door.

"Christina Solovoiva? But she doesn't have the voice!" Carlotta sneered, rezoning a death glare at me.

"Signora, please," Andre tried to calm her.

"Then I take it you're agreed."

"She's behind this."

"It appears we have no choice."

"SHE'S THE ONE BEHIND THIS! CHRISTINA SOLOVIOVA!"

"How dare you!" I snapped back at Carlotta.

"I'm not a fool!"

"You evil woman," I snarled. "This isn't my fault! I don't want any part of this!"

"But why not?" Monsieur Andre asked.

"What do you mean "why not"?" I snapped.

"It's your decision, but why not?"

"She's backing out?" Piangi said his eyes wide on me.

"You have a duty!" Monsieur Firmin argued with me.

"Duty or not, I can't sing it," I put my foot down.

"You don't have to, Chrissy," Tom whispered to me. "We all know that it's dangerous. No one can make you sing that part."

"Please messieurs," Frau reappeared from somewhere. My heart jumped to my throat when I saw Bill trailing sauntering silently behind her. "I bring you another note."

"Yes, and who might this be?" Monsieur Firmin gestured to Bill.

"A new dancer of mine. He's an orphan, like the rest, though a good friend of Christina's," she gave me a small smile and I left Tom to go cling onto Bill for dear life, though I kept Tom close by me.

I was beyond thankful Frau had a legit excuse for Bill's being here.

Firmin eyes Bill suspiciously. "Wouldn't I have known about a new dancer coming here?"

"Not necessarily," Frau responded. "Everything that has to do with the ballet, like new dancers, goes through me."

"What's your name, boy?"

"My name is Bill, sir."

"And where are you from, Bill?"

"I'm from Vienna, sir."

"And how do you know Miss Solovoiva?"

Bill gulped. "I met her when I first came here. She was nice and we became good friends very quickly."

"I'm taking you don't care at all about the new note I bring you?" Frau raised an eyebrow.

Then all attention switched very quickly from Bill, back to Frau and the piece of folded up paper in her hand. It was stamped with red ink the shape of a skull.

My stomach did a scared little flip. I wasn't sure if it was really my stomach, or how early does a baby start moving?

Well, my unborn child wouldn't know at all what was going on. I felt guilty. I was such a bad parent to bring a little boy or girl into this world during our horrible time of such turmoil. How could Bill and I had been so blind to this risk?

It didn't matter now. What's done is done and there's no way to reverse it.

"Well, what is it?" Carlotta asked impatiently, to Monsieur Firmin, who was reading the note.

"It's a cast listing. It has everyone's name and the part they're playing. Just a reminder, it says at the bottom. But…he seems to have left the place of Don Juan empty….."

"He wants us to choose the Don Juan?" Andre concluded.

Firmin was silent for a moment before his eyes glances to Tom.

"You," he pointed. "What's your name?"

"Tom Kaulitz, sir," he replied promptly.

"Can you sing?"

"We need Tom," Frau jumped in. "he's one of the best male dancers we have."

"Very well," Firmin nodded. Then his eyes flickered to Bill. "What about you, new one? Can you sing?"

Can he sing? Of course, I knew that bill could sing like an angel, but….

"I guess, sir," he replied sheepishly. I could tell in his eyes that he didn't want any part in this, either.

"Why are you asking all these young whippersnapper dancers to play the role of Don Juan?" Piangi thundered. "For one, there're way too young. And they're orphans who have not had any proper training to be good singers."

"The how do you explain Miss Soloviova's voice? She's an orphaned dancer, yet her voice exceeded all of our expectations," Andre pointed out.

Great.

"Yes, but Signor Piangi has a point. He's been singing for us and he's one of the best baritones we have on staff and he know he can pull it off. The dancers, maybe not so much. Even Christina has some experience singing onstage in front of a large crowd."

"But I'm not singing it," I pointed out once more.

"Christina, please," Andre begged with me. "Please sing for us."

"Why should I put myself at risk?"

"Because, Miss Christina," Firmin answered sheepishly. "It says by your name: Should she not sing this role, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur."

"Then he's leaving me no choice."


	15. Chapter 15

I was glad I didn't have a bump yet when I was getting ready for the opera. Well, I had a little bit of one, but if you didn't know any better, you'd think I'd just gained a little weight – that's how insignificant the difference was.

There was no normal messing around with any of the dancers or cast or crew members. Because all the crap was cut out of the rehearsals, it only took about a week for us to put the whole thing together.

We all wanted to get this done and over with. We all knew he'd be there, lurking somewhere in the shadows.

I thought for a moment. I could still back out. It wasn't too late. Again, like what Tom had said, no one is making me do anything, since this part –for me, at least – is so risky.

_Twisted every way_

_What answer can I give?_

If I say yes, there's a good possibility that I and my child will die, but if I back out now, a lot more people will die – including Bill and possibly even Tom.

_Am I to risk my life to win the chance to live?_

I mean, what if was only an opera that he wanted me to star in and nothing more? But is that a risk I'm willing to take? The risk that it's not?

_Can I betray the man who once inspired my voice?_

Bill wanted me to back out – he never said anything, but it was the way he looked at me, at way he acted. Can I seriously betray the man I love and who inspired me to sing by risking being taken captive for a bride to his archenemy?

_Do I become his prey?_

Do I still sing none the less and let this Opera Ghost fiasco go on? How long are we just going to let him pull the strings on us like we're his marionettes?

_Do I have any choice?_

_He kills without a thought_

_He murders all that's good_

_I know I can't refuse_

_But yet, I wish I could_

_Oh gosh, if I agree_

_What horrors wait for me?_

_In this – the phantom's opera?_

"Christina, child, what is the matter?" a make-up artist asked, when she saw the tears welling in my eyes.

"I'm scared," I murmured.

Frau came in a moment later. "Give her a minute," she said to them. When they left, she gave me a hug. "Christina, listen to me. You are going to okay. You have the whole opera house praying for you. You will be okay. You–"

"It's not that easy," I said through my tears.

"Excuse me?"

"When I go up, it's not going to be just my life at stake up there!"

"Christina, what are you talking about?"

"I'm pregnant, Frau," I stated bluntly. "I just found out about a week and a half ago."

There was silence, silence and only silence from her end.

My stomach was twisted into a tight knot and electricity coursed through my nerves as the music started and the curtain went up and the chorus started to sing.

_Here the sire may serve the dam!_

_Here the master takes his meat_

_Here he sacrificial lamb_

_Utters one despairing bleat_

_Poor young maiden _

_For the thrill on your tongue of stolen sweets_

_You will have to pay the bill_

_Tangled in the winding sheets_

_Serve the meal and serve the maid_

_Serve the master so that when_

_Table spreads and maids are laid_

_Don Juan triumphs_

_Once again!_

That was the part I was playing; the "poor young maiden", the "sacrificial lamb". I was the one that was supposed to get seduced or raped or something to the effect of that.

Piangi and another male singer, who looked similar to him, entered the stage smiling and looking mischievously evil, since that's what their roles called for.

_Passerino, faithful friend_

_Once again, recite the plan_

_Your young guest believes I'm you_

_I, the master, you, the man_

_When you met, you wore my cloak_

_She could not have seen your face_

_She believes she dines with me_

_In her master's borrowed place_

_Furtively, we'll scoff and quaff_

_Stealing, what in truth, is mine_

_When it's late and modesty_

_Starts to mellow with the wine_

_You come home - I use your voice_

_Slam the door like crack of doom_

_I shall say: "Come hide with me!" "Where oh where?" _

"_Of course, my room."_

_Poor thing hasn't got a chance_

_Here's my hat, my cloak, my sword_

_Conquest is assured_

_If I do not forget myself and laugh!_

"The spotlight is yours, Christina," Frau said to me. I saw Tom and Gustav behind her. "And if anything happens, we'll be right here. And if you get scared and realize you can't do this, just come offstage. No one will blame you."

I nodded quickly before walking out on my cue, singing the lines I dreaded.

_No thoughts within her head, but thoughts of joy_

_No dreams within her heart, but dreams of love_

I heard the shuffle of feet behind me.

_Master?_

_Passerino – go away_

_For the trap is set and waits for its prey_

My heart sped at the realization that the voice was not the same.

_You have come here_

_In pursuit of your deepest urge_

_In pursuit of that wish which till now_

_Has been silent_

I looked, horror-shocked at the Opera Ghost, who only raised a finger to his lips, in cue for me not to scream or make any sudden movements.

_Silent_

_I have brought you_

_That our passions may fuse and merge_

_In your mind, you've already succumbed to me_

_Dropped all defenses_

_Completely succumbed to me_

_Now you are here with me_

_No second thoughts_

_You've decided_

_Decided…_

I gulped, keeping my eyes as glued to the floor in front of me as I could.

_Past the point of no return_

_No backward glances_

_The games we've played 'til now are at an end_

_Past all thought of "if" or "when"_

_No use resisting_

_Abandon thought and let the dream descend_

_What raging fire shall flood the soul?_

_What rich desire unlocks its door? _

_What sweet seduction lies before us?_

I was powerless in his strong grasp, a prisoner.

_Past the point of no return_

_The final threshold_

_What warm, unspoken secrets_

_Will we learn?_

His ice cold hand traces across where my womb would be; where the growing embryo inside me is. His mouth suddenly appears at my ear.

_Beyond the point of no_

_Return…._

I tried to swallow the huge lump in my throat and glanced offstage, where I saw Bill, Tom, Frau and Gustav just as horrified as I felt.

_You have brought me_

_To that moment where words run dry_

_To that moment when speak disappears into silence_

I walked away, thankful that my part required it.

_Silence_

_I have come here_

_Hardly knowing the reason why_

_In my mind, I've already imagined_

_Our bodies entwining – defenseless and silent_

_Now I am here with you_

_No second thoughts_

_I've decided_

_Decided…._

I put on a look of fake courage, deciding to make him believe that I was enjoying myself, singing up here in front of at least two hundred people with him.

_Past the point of no return_

_No going back now!_

_Our passion play has now, at last begun_

_Past all thought of right or wrong_

_One final question:_

_How long should we to wait before we're one?_

Both of us started ascending spiral staircases on opposite side of the stage

_When will the blood begin to race?_

_The sleeping bug burst into bloom_

_When will the flames at last_

_Consume us?_

He began singing with me as we walked toward each other on the top platform.

_Past the point of no return_

_The final threshold_

_The bridge is crossed – so stand_

_And watch it burn_

_We've passed the point of no return_

There was a long pause as he maintained his grip on me. I just stayed there, not trying to move or anything – I was too scared to. There was no way for me to know what was going on inside his mind right now to see what he was planning on doing to me.

There was no way he was going to get any closer to me in public like this. I just closed my eyes and waited for the slam of the stage door, so we could continue with this opera.

But there wasn't one.

I'm not sure how long we were there for, but it was over four minutes.

The Opera Ghost's hand slid across my stomach area again, but stopped. I could almost feel the faint beating of a racing heart, inside of me.

"I gave you everything," he snarled in my ear. "A voice, shelter, I places you in the good company of this opera house and this is how you repay me?"

"Let go…of me," I breathed. Fear choked my voice.

"I ask for so little of you," he continued. "All I wanted was you. And now you leave me no choice, if I can't take you willingly."

He grabbed a pocket knife frome his (duh) pocket and sliced two ropes to the side of us.

I realized only a second too late that one held the chandelier in place…and the other held us up here. I realized only a minute too late that we were falling…and I was forever going to be lost.

-Bill's POV-

"Nein," I could only breathe as I watched my girl be taken from me by that bastard who held me a slave for all these years. "Nein!"

No. he's taken everything else from me, but he will not take her too. Christina…and a second after they disappeared down the trap door was when I remembered one important thing that I'd somehow forgotten over these course of events – Christina was carrying my child.

I was not about to let him get away with this.

Not without a fight!

I made a judgment call right then: the fastest way to reach them was by going down the same way they did.

"Bill, what are you doing?" Tom asked. I looked him straight in the eye and I knew that he could tell what I was planning.

"Are you insane?"

"Tom, they're my family," I said, "I have to fight for them."

Tom looked confused. "Wait a minute: "them"?"

"Christina's carrying my child."

Tom took a deep breath before hugging me. "Be strong, brother."

And with that, I took a running start before reaching the stage, where my wings broke open the back of my shirt, startled the already startled audience, and I flew down that shaft, my eyes set on rescuing the woman I love and the child within her.


	16. Chapter 16: Finale

7 Page

_Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair!_

_Down we plunge toward the prison of my mind!_

_Down that path into darkness deep as hell!_

I was dragged – no, not lead, or even pulled; dragged – down into that dark and twisting underground world by the man I knew was going to end my life; and the life of my unborn child. I could almost feel my life slipping to an end. As we descended, it was harder and harder to breathe, harder to see, harder to feel anything but my heartbeat.

_Why? You ask was I bound and chained in this cold and dismal place._

_Not for any mortal sin, but the wickedness of my abhorrent face!_

_Hunted down by everyone_

_Met with hatred everywhere_

_No kind words from anyone_

_No compassion anywhere_

"Christina," he had me pinned against a cold, stone wall while gazing into my eyes. "Why? Why?"

The next thing I knew, I was chained to a wall like an animal and left their while he went to get something. When he came back, it was a wedding dress. The look on my face read one thing and one thing only: you're kidding, right?

_Have you gorged yourself at last in your lust for blood?_

_Am I now to be prey to your lust for flesh?_

_That fate which condemns me to wallow in blood_

_And has also denied me the joys of the flesh_

_This face, the infection which poisons out love_

"What "love"?" I snapped.

The ghost only smiled and laughed. "You are just like her, you know? This is why I need you here with me. This is why you may never leave.

Wait.

"Like who?"

He looked surprised. "You knew her for fifteen years. She rubbed off on you so much. Well, you are of her blood. And like you, she didn't want me. She rejected me. She didn't take all that I could offer her. She ran away with another man," he growled. "She got pregnant by him. Just like you."

Bill's name hung silently in the air.

"I don't understand who you're talking about," I pleaded.

"I'm talking about your mother, Christina," he snapped. "Anastasia Soloviova."

I couldn't say anything.

"She was my everything. She had a voice, much like yours. I treated her with so much respect, with love. I wrote for her. I was her Angel. When I asked her to come away with me," he paused, his eyes burning with hate. "She had already ended up like you."

"And how–"

_Wait._

_I think, my dear, we have a guest_

My head shot toward the opening to see bill land in the water and fold his four wings behind his back. I couldn't help but stare; I'd seen his wings many, many times. But I'd never seen him use them. I didn't know he knew how to fly.

_Sir._

_Bill!_

_This is indeed and unparalleled delight_

_I had rather hoped that you would come_

_And now, my wish comes true_

_You have truly made my night_

"Get your hands off of me," I snapped when the opera ghost tried to hug me like we were throwing a party and Bill was simply a guest.

"Free her!" Bill pleaded. "Do what you'd like to me, but free her."

_Your lover makes a passionate please_

_Please, Bill, it's useless_

Bill tried reaching through the wrought iron gate for me.

_I love her! Does that mean nothing? I love her! Please…let me see her._

_Be my guest, sir._

The ghost lifted a latch and the gate was pulled upward. Bill staggered through the dark water in hopes of making his way over here. It wasn't until way too late that I realized what the Opera Ghost was planning when he came up behind Bill with a rope in his hand….

_Mein Herr, I bid you welcome_

_Did you think that I would harm her?_

_Why would I make her pay?_

_For the sins which are yours?_

It hurts like hell seeing someone you love hurt and know there's nothing at all that you can do to save/help them. The only thing I could seriously do was stand on the edge of my leash and bark at the horror of what was going on. I could only watch as Bill was tied to the gate that had come back down and as a noose was tightened around his neck.

_Nothing can save you now, except perhaps Christina!_

The Opera Ghost turned to me.

_Start a new life with me!_

_Buy his freedom with your love_

_Refuse me and you send your lover to his death_

_This is the choice_

_This is the point of no return!_

_I hadn't really consciously acknowledged the fact that I was crying, but I knew._

_The tears I might have shed for your dark fate_

_Grow cold_

_And turn to tears of hate!_

_Bill's face was wet as well._

_Bill: Chrissy, forgive me. Please forgive me._

_I did this all for you and all for nothing!_

_Me: Farewell, my fallen idol and false friend _

_We had such hopes and now I watch all illusions shatter_

_OG: Too late for turning back_

_Too late for prayers and useless pity_

_Bill: Say you love him and my life is over!_

_For either way you choose, you cannot win_

_OG: So do you end your days with me?_

_Or do you send him to his grave?_

The ghost pulled hard on the rope that was connected to the noose. I flinched.

"Enough!" someone else shouted. All of our eyes flickered over to where Tom and Gustav where standing.

The rest happened so very fast. At first there was nothing…then there was fire. Everywhere. Smoke, flames, heat. My lungs were burning and I realized it was from the chandelier crash. The entire room was engulfed in flames in a matter of moments. I remember blacking out and that was it.

"Chrissy? Chrissy, can you hear me?"

I opened my eyes slowly, though I wasn't blinded. It was dark, wherever I was. My back was cold. I was lying on something wet. Dew. Grass. We were outside. It was nighttime. I heard shrill, high-pitched sounds far in the distance. Screaming. I smelled something that made me want to cough up a lung. Smoke. Smoke comes from fire. Fire….

My eyes focused and I saw Gustav's face first; I was nestled in his arms.

"Where…where is-" I tried to sit up.

"Easy, Chrissy," he said, slowing me down. I felt nervous, shaky. Uneasy.

Bill.

I stood up…and wanted to pass out again.

No.

Just…no. this couldn't be happening. Not to me. Not after all I'd had to fight our way through. Not now. Not ever.

But I knew it was true. Staring at the burning building that was collapsing in on itself, and the solemn look on Gustav's face and the way Tom's face was buried in his knees and his breathing came irregularly, I knew it was true.

I collapsed to my knees.

No.

Not Bill.

Of all people, why him?

"He sacrificed himself for you," Gustav filled me in. "He kept the OG busy while we got you out. He told us to tell you that he's sorry and that he knows you would have done the same for him."

No….

-nine months later-

As my son, Gustav Thomas Wilhelm Kaulitz, was set in my arms, I wanted to cry, but these were tears of joy. He was named after the three most important people in my life and in the order I met them in. Gustav was the first person who talked to me when I'd first come to the Berlin Opera House. I'd met Tom later. Then there was….

Gustav looked so much like Bill it wasn't even funny. Though he had my green eyes, he had his father's face and sandy blonde hair that his father was supposed to have had. Gustav was going to know all about his father.

I held my son close to me as I walked through the ruble that was the Berlin Opera House. Memories came flooding back. The great, the good, the bad and the very ugly.

"Excuse me, miss?" a voice asked from behind me. It was speaking fluent Russian, though with a heavy German accent.

I turned around slowly to be only amazed.

My favorite pair of brown eyes was walking out of the mist, from dark car, and towards me. He had no mask, and his hair was out of his face. He was free of his scars. He walked with a slight smug happiness in his step.

"But you…!" I tried to get out.

"I was making sure the Opera Ghost never bothers us again. And I got my humanity, as well," he smiled as he kissed me hungrily. "And is this…?"

"Your son? Yes," I smiled. I held him toward Bill and he took our son from my arms. Tears were welling in his eyes.

"We have a son," he repeated.

"Yes," I said. "Gustav Thomas Wilhelm Kaulitz. After the three most important people in my life."

He seemed to be at a loss for words. "Thank you, Lord, he's got your eyes!"

I smiled. "And your face."

Without another word, Bill pulled three small pieces of paper from his back pocket and handed them to me before returning his gaze to Gustav.

They were three airline tickets, one for all three of us. All to Chicago, Illinois, USA.

We boarded the airplane later that day and headed out for our new life, never once even thinking or caring to look back.

_fin_


End file.
